


Merchant Marine

by helens78



Category: GoldenEye (1995) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-28
Updated: 2004-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ship's captain buys out an indentured servant's contract.  It wouldn't complicate things so much if they weren't already lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As soon as the cargo's unloaded, the lists are double- and triple-checked, and the crew's settled in on shore, Sean heads down the gangplank and hires a carriage into town. It's been too long at sea, and thank heaven he's at the port of New York, a town big enough to host one of the Establishment's boarding houses.

Sean's livelihood involves, at its most unpleasant moments, flogging men as punishment. And there's a certain irony about his heading for shore and taking a flogging for pleasure as soon as he finds the opportunity. He might have settled for a rough fuck in the public room on another night. On this night, his lover's in town, and his lover has a strong arm and as much need to hurt Sean as Sean has to be hurt.

It's not uncommon for Sean to have enough time to spend a full night here. It _is_ uncommon for his lover to have the same, but apparently his obligations elsewhere are covered for the evening. Sean doesn't ask questions. He asked too many the first few times he met this man, asking his real name (his lover wouldn't say, though he's known here as Pierce), where he comes from (wouldn't tell, though the Irish accent gives him away), how he managed to make his way into the Establishment if he didn't have the means for it (Sean found out later that his employer sponsored him, looking to see him trained properly as a top; it makes Sean wonder who Pierce tops apart from him).

Sean's wondered for a while now just how much Pierce's contract with his employer would cost. How many years it's supposed to run. What it would be like between them if Sean bought Pierce's contract, and his lover -- his _dom_ \-- became his servant. More than that, he wonders if Pierce loves him. If Pierce would understand why Sean was trying to buy his contract out. Or if it would change things too much, and these few stolen days between Sean's cargo runs are all they'll ever have.

_-end-_


	2. Chapter 2

Pierce has been in taverns with his employer before. He's been wagered, he's been sent out to box and bet on, he's been made to fuck in public and watched. He's never much cared one way or the other about such things. The one thing his employer doesn't do is beat him, and that makes life significantly more comfortable than it would be otherwise. He might not like fucking the girls that his employer puts in his path, but then it isn't always girls. Sometimes it's boys -- sometimes boys young enough to be Pierce's son, if he had any sons, which he's not so fond of, but again, better than being beaten. All in all, he's got it easier than most.

And with the company his employer keeps, every so often Pierce runs into people he's seen at the Establishment. No surprise there, either. So there's no reason for him to pause when he walks into the bar with his employer and sees that marine captain with the broad shoulders and the even-broader smile.

No reason, but he pauses anyway. And the smile doesn't come onto his captain's face. Not today.

"What are you staring at?" his employer says with a smirk, and shoves at Pierce's shoulder to get him going again. Pierce's jaw clenches, and he comes forward, taking the seat his employer indicates.

"Pierce, I'd like you to meet Captain Sean Bean of the _Constancy_." His employer shoves him in the shoulder. "Shake the man's hand."

Pierce extends his hand over the table, and Sean leans forward to grasp it. Pierce lets go as soon as it's physically possible to do so, and slumps back in his chair.

"I've his papers in order," Pierce's employer says, reaching into his waistcoat to get them. He looks them over one last time, and then slides the sheaf of papers over to Sean. "Add these to the one we signed earlier this week, and it should settle everything."

Sean nods, glances over the papers and tucks them away. "Thank you," he says. He looks at Pierce. "Have you been told what's happening?"

"I'm not a fool," Pierce says. "How many years are left after the trade, then?"

"Four," Pierce's employer -- former employer -- says. "I get a good sum of money. You get two years off for free. He gets you." There's a leer on his face when he says the last. "Figure we all make out well with this, though I'll miss the hand you had with the lads and lasses I brought home for you. You were good to watch."

Pierce's eyes fix solidly on the surface of the table, and so he misses the dark look Sean gives Pierce's former employer. "That's enough," Sean says. "I thank you for your time and your bondservant, sir." There's a scrape of wood as Sean rises, and an answering one when Pierce's former employer does the same. "And I wish you well in the future."

~*~

Sean guides Pierce up the gangplank to his ship. "Normally we'd wait 'til morning to set sail, but we were meant to go this morning and I had some... errands left to finish," he explains.

If he's waiting for Pierce to ask _was I the errand?_, he's got a long time to wait. Pierce says nothing. Doesn't even glance around at the ship or its crew. He lets Sean lead him into the captain's cabin and waits until the door's locked before he says a word. And as soon as he has the opportunity to say a word, the one-word choice is obvious:

"Why?"

Sean blinks at Pierce, almost unable to fathom the question. He sits down on the bed, leaving plenty of room for Pierce to sit beside him. "Why?" he repeats.

Pierce crosses his arms over his chest, stares hard at Sean. The question won't be repeated, he decides, regardless of how long Sean spends pretending he doesn't know its meaning.

Eventually, Sean looks away. "Because I couldn't stand seeing you go," he says softly.

Pierce almost laughs. "I think you've gone rather to the other extreme. There were other options."

"Such as?" Sean asks, looking up again.

"You could have bought my time, I'm sure. Asked my employer for it."

The expression on Sean's face twists with disgust. "I didn't want to buy your 'time'," he says.

Pierce _does_ laugh at that. "You bought four years of it."

The silence afterwards is ugly, heavy. Pierce shakes his head and sits down on the bed next to Sean, and Sean tenses up. None of this is what Sean had in mind. He turns to Pierce, reaches out to cover Pierce's hand with his own, and Pierce draws away. _Damn it._

"Would you stay if I didn't hold your bond papers?" Sean asks.

"You must be mad. Of course I wouldn't stay." Pierce sighs at the wince on Sean's face. "It isn't that," he says. "I have family. In Ireland. I had to indenture myself for passage. I thought when it was over I could earn enough to bring them across as well."

These are things Sean never knew. He wonders if he was ever meant to know them. Pierce has had months to tell him. "I didn't realize," he says. "I have -- I could help you..."

"You could help me," Pierce repeats. "What would I _owe_ you, Sean, in exchange for enough money to bring my family to America?"

Sean goes silent again. He shakes his head. "It wasn't supposed to be about that," he says. "I didn't think it was about that."

"Did you think at all? With anything above the waist, Sean?" Pierce sighs, drops his head into his hands and runs his fingers through his hair. "If you tell me you're in love with me, I swear to God--"

"Oh, for--" Sean stands up, heads across the room -- all two paces of it -- and rests his head against the door. "I hated it when you had to leave," he murmurs. "I wanted us -- I wanted to be able -- damn it, Pierce, I wanted you to stay with me."

"Slavery isn't going to make me love you, Sean."

Sean sets his shoulders before he turns around, and his expression's gone cold. "Well, we're en route to England," he says. "You're stuck with me the next few months. If you can't stand the sight of me by the time we dock, I'll sign your papers over. You won't have to be saddled with me longer than that."

"But I'll be on the wrong bloody side of the Atlantic, won't I?" Pierce points out acidly. "The side I was willing to sell myself for seven _years_ to leave."

"And you had six to go. With me you'd have four and _yes_, Pierce, I'd have given you the money to bring your family over." Sean sets his jaw. "Are you married?"

"That's none of your fucking business."

"Do you have children?"

"None of your--"

"Is there someone in Ireland you _love_?" Sean asks, closing the distance between them and getting his hands on Pierce's upper arms. "And don't tell me it's none of my fucking business, damn it."

Pierce stares at Sean for several seconds, searching his eyes for something. Maybe he finds it; maybe he doesn't. What he _does_ do is laugh. He brings his hands to Sean's waist, then wraps his arms around Sean and laughs, settling his forehead on Sean's shoulder. "My God," he says, breaths coming out between laughter, "my God, you're a fool. You did this because you think you love me. You're a merchant captain who lives his life on the sea and you think you _love_ me. You could be put to death for having me on this ship. You know that?"

Sean shoves Pierce away, knocking him back onto the bed. "Don't be absurd," he scoffs. "I'm a damned popular captain and half the men on my crew are buggering the other half. I have no enemies. I'm a very boring captain, Pierce. I ship silk and tobacco and indigo. I don't traffic in slaves or redemptioners or convicts. But I let my men drink and I don't have a heavy hand with the lash, and I've steered through more storms than you can imagine. Hope you don't get seasick."

"Only when I was in steerage," Pierce says, sliding back on the bed. "Surroundings like this, I'll probably sleep like a baby." He tilts his head up and looks over at Sean. "Unless my captain has use for me, of course."

"Christ." Sean shakes his head. "You never seemed to have much difficulty fucking me before."

"You didn't _own_ me before."

"Who owned whom before, Pierce?" Sean asks. "Did you really think it mattered to me that you were a redemptioner?"

That gives Pierce pause for a moment, but not for very long. "Things were different in the Establishment's boarding house, Sean," he says softly. "It was a place neither of us had anyone to answer to."

"Can we not have that here?" Sean asks. "If your family were in America and you were settled, could we--"

"But they're not. _I'm_ not. If, if, if -- Sean, for God's sake. You _bought_ me. That changes matters."

Sean sighs and then nods. "I've things to do while we push off. You should probably stay here until morning. I'll introduce you to the crew once we're off."

"And if I'd rather not stay locked in your cabin?" Pierce asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Then you do whatever you damn well please," Sean snaps. "As long as you don't leave the ship."

Pierce snorts out a breath. "Where would I go? I'd be a runaway bondservant. How far would I get?"

Sean's not even thinking that far ahead. All he's thinking is _it's late; it's dark. The water's cold. Black. You'd drown before you could get anywhere_. "Can you swim?" he asks.

"Not well," Pierce answers.

"Then I suppose I don't have to worry about you going overboard. Just stay here. For me. Tonight." Sean sighs. "Please."

"Yes, Master," Pierce answers, and his voice is full of irony. "I assume you'll be coming back tonight? Will you want me ready for you to--"

"Pierce, please, _stop_."

It's the weariness in Sean's tone that actually breaks through to Pierce this time; he swallows the rest of his sarcasm and nods to his new owner.

"I'll still be here when you're done," Pierce says quietly. "I don't suppose we're in any hurry. We don't have to talk any more tonight."

Sean nods and leaves the cabin, closing the door behind him. Pierce stretches out across the bed and presses a hand over his eyes.

_Master._ He digs the heel of his hand into his face and lets out a long breath. _Master. God, Sean, what have you done?_

_-end-_


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in the middle of the night, a particularly large swell brings Pierce half-out of sleep. He's curled around a broad back, a warm body, and it feels familiar. _Sean._ He curls closer, cock hardening against the curve of Sean's arse.

Sean feels the movement and presses back into Pierce's touch, moaning softly. It was a rough evening, but they got underway with no problems. Pierce had turned to face the wall as soon as Sean came in and started stripping off, but he was undressed; Sean found that out by accident when Pierce rolled over in his sleep and wrapped himself around Sean.

_At least in your sleep you trust me._

Drowsy, not quite sure where he is yet, Pierce licks the back of Sean's neck before biting his way over Sean's shoulder. He mumbles something soft -- _feel so good_, maybe -- and rolls on top of Sean a little more firmly, with intent this time. Sean parts his legs and pushes up on his forearms. This time when Pierce mumbles words they're a little easier to understand. "That's good," he breathes, "good lad..."

"Please," Sean whispers. "It's been so long. Want you."

"Getting me," Pierce mumbles into Sean's shoulder. He spits into his palm and slicks his cock; spits again and drives his fingers into Sean's arse, and Sean jerks, jumps, spreads his legs even wider and moans. "Hush," Pierce whispers, "you've a lot more to take before we're done," and Sean nods, pressing his hips back hopefully.

Pierce pushes in the first inch, then braces his arms to either side of Sean's shoulders and shoves in a little deeper. Sean presses his face into the pillow and shouts something incoherent, gasping for breath. Pierce sets his teeth together and rocks in a little more, and a little more after that, until finally Sean's stretched wide open and has his cock completely. "God, yes," Pierce whispers, and now he's moving, with Sean making noises all the time -- soft noises, loud noises, whimpers, groans, pleas. They're intoxicating. They always are. And Pierce has never felt he could get enough.

"Please," Sean breathes, "please, oh, God, please, let me come, Pierce, please..."

Pierce gets a hand under Sean's body and starts stroking his cock, getting closer and closer with every thrust. "Why should I?" he asks.

"Because you love hearing it," Sean pants. "Love hearing me scream."

He's absolutely right, and Pierce drives in all the harder for it. "Scream for me," he hisses.

And Sean does. Muffled by the pillow, but screaming all the same. He screams 'til he's out of breath, cock jerking hard in Pierce's hand, and Pierce throws his head back and cries out, too, coming deep inside his--

\--_oh, God._ Pierce holds still, panting, trying to recover. _Not my boy, not my lover. Oh, God._

He rolls off, making Sean cry out in pain, and shoves himself back into the wall. "Goddamnit," he curses.

"What?" Sean asks. "What happened?" He pushes himself onto his side and reaches out.

Pierce knocks his hand away. "Leave me alone," he whispers. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Don't fucking -- Pierce, you just _fucked_ me. What the hell are you talking about, _don't fucking touch me_?"

"That wasn't -- I didn't -- I wasn't even _awake_."

Sean covers his face with his hand and rolls to his back. "All right. All right, stop. Enough."

There's silence for a while, and Pierce thinks he's not going to be sick after all. He settles down, still pressed halfway up against the wall but not anywhere near as tense as he was at first. Sean hasn't moved; he's still on his back, still with his hand over his face, and Pierce feels a twinge of -- well, it can't be guilt. "It wasn't my fault," Pierce mumbles.

"For fuck's sake, man, it wasn't my fault either," Sean spits back. "I was bloody well asleep and you--" He stops, swallows, exhales softly. "I didn't force that on you," he whispers.

And there it is. That _is_ guilt, and Pierce doesn't like it at all. "I know you didn't," he says quietly. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_," Sean says. "Who the hell asked you to be sorry?"

Pierce has no answer for that, and he closes his eyes, wondering if he can get dressed, go abovedecks, just to get away for a while. But he doubts that would solve anything, either.

"It won't happen again," he says quietly.

"Care to wager on it?" Sean asks. Pierce can hear the sarcasm in his voice, and his gut twists; Sean's right.

"I don't think so."

"Well, that's something at least." Sean rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "At least you don't hate me that much."

"I don't--" It's an immediate reflex, and Pierce knows it's the truth, but he doesn't want to say it, for some reason. "I don't hate you," he says softly, forcing the words out anyway. "I'm not going to hate you."

"Good," Sean says. "Could we get some sleep now?"

Pierce nods and rolls off the wall, but turns to face it. He's not going to curl himself around Sean again, not going to risk a repeat of this.

His resolve lasts while he's awake. But as soon as he's asleep again, Sean finds himself with Pierce curled around him all over again. And it's quite a while before Sean sleeps.

-_end_-


End file.
